


‘Cause I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You

by KayleeJohn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee, First Kiss, M/M, No Sex, Pining, Showers, Strangers to Lovers, stupid fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeJohn/pseuds/KayleeJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they meet, it’s in a 30′′ by 30′′ shower stall, barely enough space to breathe, let alone for two people to squeeze under the spray. Niall hears the door hinges squeal after he’s been inside for barely three minutes, and not for the first time this semester, he wishes that these communal showers at least had locks. “Um,” Niall says, unsure whether he should try to reach for his towel to cover his ass and risk it getting soaked. He has shampoo in his eyes.</p><p>Or the one in which Niall and Harry keep not-so-accidentally running into each other and Niall tries to hate Harry but he really, really can’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	‘Cause I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on [my tumblr](http://leprechauncupcakes.tumblr.com/post/122560027180/cause-i-cant-help-falling-in-love-with-you)!

The first time they meet, it’s in a 30′′ by 30′′ shower stall, barely enough space to breathe, let alone for two people to squeeze under the spray. Niall hears the door hinges squeal after he’s been inside for barely three minutes, and not for the first time this semester, he wishes that these communal showers at least had locks.

“Um,” Niall says, unsure whether he should try to reach for his towel to cover his ass and risk it getting soaked. He has shampoo in his eyes.

“Just budge up for like a second,” the guy says, voice sounding thick and raspy like he rolled out of bed not ten seconds ago. He prods Niall gently in his sides until he shifts enough out of the way that the guy can squeeze by and monopolize the spray. “I’ve just got up and I have class in like five minutes. All the other stalls are taken,  _please_.”

And Niall can’t exactly do much now that he’s all pressed against the grubby walls, getting glanced by elbows at the chest and shoulder as, he assumes, the guy frantically washes himself. Using  _Niall_ ’s soap.

By the time Niall manages to force his head under the spray enough to wash off the shampoo, the guy is gone and Niall didn’t even get a good look at him.

Niall finishes his shower slowly, glancing over his shoulder routinely like he expects to be disturbed again. When he reaches for his towel, he finds it all balled up and damp. He curls his fist around it cruelly and tamps down on the anger he feels. Niall acknowledges then and there that today will not be a good day.

It’s a terrible day.

Niall only has two classes and they’re both awful; first, Business Writing where he gets back an essay with such a bad mark that he literally flinches, and then Music Composition V where his teacher rejects his composition suggestion on the basis that it’s ‘ _just not good enough_ ’ without any real constructive criticism so he has no ideas where to go with his project now.

It all culminates at the campus coffee shop where he orders his usual but the barista is new and it takes an  _eternity_. Niall forgives him though because he’s this attractive brunette named Harry with a mop of hair pinned back by a standard green visor and a voice just a touch off familiar that Niall can’t put his finger on it.

But it comes to him when the barista slides over a tall coffee and says, “That’ll be 5.68, please.”

And Niall looks through his wallet, searching for the money, but that ‘ _please_ ’ resonates through him, makes the back of his neck tickle. He almost wants to look over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Niall stops his search and looks up. He doesn’t think he has enough change to pay for his coffee anyway, just another thing to add to the list of his shitty day, but nevermind that. “Do I know you?” Niall asks, cocking his head to the side as his mind flits through all the people it could be. Was there a new kid in class or something? Or maybe they bumped into each other in the hall?

And then it hits him. “Were you in my shower this morning?”

Someone standing in line behind him lets out a snort and Niall flushes, remembering instantly where he is, but he doesn’t drop his gaze, if only because the barista’s eyes are starting to widen a little in recognition.

Before Niall can even move, the barista lurches across the counter to tug at the neck of Niall’s shirt, yanking it to the side enough to reveal a cluster of distinguishable freckles Niall has on the round of his shoulder. “Ohh!” He hums and Niall can feel the hot breath against his shoulder, enough that he jerks himself free and stumbles back a step. The barista smiles sheepishly, rubs a hand at the back of his head and dislodges his cap, “Yeah, sorry.”

Niall can feel his eyes narrowing, his teeth digging into his bottom lip until he can practically taste the iron as he painfully bites back a hiss, staring at this fucking asshole who’s still smiling at him like a dopey little shit, like he doesn’t see anything wrong with jumping into a stranger’s shower, while they’re both  _naked_.

Niall shoves his wallet back into his pocket and fists a hand around his coffee. “Think you owe me this much then,” he grits out and, without hesitating, he spins around and storms away, shoving the shop door open so loud it makes his heart race.

(Five minutes later, Niall blames his still racing heart as the reason he drops his coffee on the ground but it’s not the most terrible thing in the world because he  _technically_ didn’t pay for it.)

* * *

The second time they meet, which is kind of the third time if the coffee shop counts, is outside of Niall’s dorm room, when a knock at the door interrupts his late-night study session.

Niall pulls himself out of his stats textbook, almost grateful for the disturbance, until he opens the door and sees Harry leaning against the doorframe. He’s got a coffee in hand though, and it kind of smells like Niall’s favourite, so he’s hesitant to slam the door in Harry’s face.

“What,” Niall says, and it’s less of a question because his voice is flat, more of a demand because what the fuck is Harry even doing here and, moreover, how did he find him  _again_.

“Hi. Niall?” Harry asks, voice kind but a little dry, raspy like he’s been talking all day long, and Niall hates the way it makes his spine tingle. “Unless you’re Eoghan, and you’re Niall’s twin?” Harry furrows his brow gently, looking like he’s confused himself, and Niall has to take pity on him.

“I don’t have a twin,” Niall says slowly, clutching tighter at the door frame. Eoghan is his dorm mate and a good one at that but he doesn’t look a thing like him, not that Harry should even know his name. The fact that he doesn’t know what Eoghan looks like gives him a little hope that Harry isn’t some creepy stalker, but not much. “What are you even doing here?” A valid question, Niall thinks.

Harry’s eyes seem to light up with realization and he holds out the coffee. Niall takes it gingerly. “I came to apologize, again,” Harry says, looping his arms neatly behind his back as he shoots Niall a small smile.

Niall narrows his eyes, even as the coffee warms the palm of his hand and makes him hyperaware of everything, of just how close Harry is. “How did you find my dorm?”

Harry rubs at the back of his neck like he did back in the coffee shop, like it’s a nervous habit or something. “My sister is the R.A.” Harry smiles a little sheepishly, “She’s technically not allowed to do this -give out people’s personal information, I mean- but I really, really wanted to say I was sorry and so I pestered her until she finally did and I hope this isn’t coming out wrong, I’m just really, really-,”

And Niall has to cut him off there because it seems like Harry will just continue rambling if given the chance. “Okay! Okay,” Niall calls out, waving a wide hand, “Apology accepted!” Niall says before taking a step back, “Bye.”

It honestly feels a little wrong for Niall to close the door in Harry’s face so he’s glad that Harry stops him, his hand shooting out to press against the little whiteboard hung on the door with Niall and Eoghan’s names on it.

“Um! Actually, I wanted to ask you something else.” Harry blurts out and Niall raises his eyebrows, unsure of where Harry’s going with this exactly. He does know that if Harry asks him for a date, he’ll probably flip his shit.

“I was wondering if I could just, like, hang around for a bit?” Harry asks and, well, that hadn’t been on the list of possibilities. Niall can feel his eyes going a little bit wide. “It’s just that my roommate is,” Harry stammers, waving his hands around animatedly, “I mean, he has his girlfriend over and,”

Ah. Harry’s been sexiled. Well, that isn’t exactly Niall’s problem. “I’m studying.” Niall sighs, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “Go to the commons.”

But again, Harry stops him, hand higher on the door but not hard enough that Niall can actually feel the resistance, just like Harry plans to keep it open with sheer force of will. “I would but, like,” Harry starts, licking at his lips nervously before he rubs at the back of his head,  _again_. “I was planning to sleep? And they’re playing music down there. I promise I won’t disturb you at all.” Harry clasps his hands together in supplication and if ever there was a moment for Niall to slam the door, this would be it, but he doesn’t.

Niall does let Harry sweat it for another moment to get him back for the showers before he dips his head a little in exasperation and steps aside. “Fine. But the first noise I hear and you’re out.”

“Thank you so much!” Harry gushes, barreling into the room but not before he pulls Niall into a kind of half hug, an arm thrown around his shoulders and the wide palm of Harry’s hand burning a handprint high on Niall’s back.

If Niall slams the door shut a little hard because of it, well, who cares. Who even cares.

Niall’s snapped out of his stupor when he hears Harry mumbling almost to himself, halfway between the beds and the desk where Niall has his textbook and notebooks spread out, “Knew you looked like a musician.”

Harry’s staring at the pictures on the wall that Niall and Eoghan have set up over the months rooming together, family photos and funny shots, and instantly Niall knows which one Harry is talking about, a picture taken early on in their first semester together when Niall and Eoghan were still getting used to each other.

Niall had pulled out his guitar while they were in the commons, playing this loud obnoxious song and making a ridiculous fish face with his cheeks all sucked in and his eyes crossed. Eoghan had taken a picture of course, and refused to let Niall take it down even now.

It should feel invasive, having Harry look at all these private moments caught in snapshots, but it makes something that feels like home pool in Niall’s gut, makes him bite at his blunt nails before pointing toward the beds, “Eoghan’s the one on the left, mine’s the one on the right,” before hurriedly turning back to his books and sitting down.

From behind, he can hear Harry scuffle off his shoes, the mattress springs jostle as his sits down, the sigh as he stretches to lie out on the bed.

Niall tries not to pay him too much attention, taking a sip of his coffee, and he’s instantly amazed that Harry has not only remembered his order from the shop two days ago, but gotten it perfect, a little cooled down from the walk but delicious all the same.

He kind of wants to turn around and say thank you, but he’s overly aware of the presence behind him and talking to Harry will just make it worse so Niall slurps at his coffee and gets back to work.

The coffee keeps him up for another two hours, until he’s reviewed enough notes to feel good about his exam tomorrow and his eyes are sore.

As he brushes his teeth for bed, he feels bitter that Eoghan’s already done with his exams and gone home for the holidays. Harry doesn’t seem to be stressed out either, maybe already done himself.

Niall wonders about Harry’s major as he stumbles back into the room, only to suddenly stop as he sees that Harry is not on the left bed like Niall had assumed he’d be. No, Harry is stretched on  _Niall_ ’s bed, hugging  _Niall_ ’s pillow, and curled up in  _Niall_ ’s blanket, like he belongs there.

Niall is almost tired enough to just say, fuck it, and go to Eoghan’s bed, seeing as Eoghan’s not going to be back any time soon, but no, he’s earned a sleep in his own damn bed after the grueling day he’s had.

So Niall walks over to his bed and prods Harry over enough until he can squeeze onto the edge of his own mattress, steals enough of his blankets that he won’t be cold before settling down.

It’s fair to say that these beds weren’t designed for two people, Niall thinks as his ass hangs off the side, but then Harry curves his back and Niall curls into the extra space, so close it’s like they’re spooning and Harry is little spoon, all pressed up against the wall.

Niall has never been known to sleep well with other people, kicking them and talking in his sleep, but against all odds, he falls asleep.

(He wakes up later on, when the sun is casting a gentle glow on the room. He’s lying on his stomach and there’s a hand on his back, “Shh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

And Niall wasn’t really awake so he can’t say he’s nodding back off but he does fall asleep before he remembers that it was Harry he let in his room, Harry who probably stole his laptop and anything else of value.

He hasn’t though, Niall finds out when he wakes up properly for his alarm, startling out of bed and rushing to get ready for his exam that’s due to start in half an hour. Niall barely looks up while he’s brushing his teeth, too busy reviewing notes one last time, so it’s only when he’s handing in his exam three hours later that someone tells him.

“You’re welcome,” the teacher says, as they take the booklet, and Niall is automatically confused because he didn’t say thank you? The teacher instantly understands Niall’s confused look though, chuckling and gesturing at Niall’s left cheek like he’s got sauce on his face. “You’ve got a little something there.”

And Niall is just grateful there’s a bathroom right down the hall because he has a feeling he knows why everyone was laughing at him on the way to the exam and in the exam hall.

Sure enough, written on his cheek in black sharpie, are the words -  **thank you xH**.)

* * *

They meet for the fourth time in the commons, nearly a week after Niall scrubbed his cheek red raw and still saw that stupid  **x** on his face.

Again, Niall is studying for an exam, biting the nail of his thumb bloody as he drafts out the essay he plans to write for his Communication Theory final. He’s got the introduction practically memorized, the first two paragraphs summarized, and he’s working on the third when the couch cushion next to him sinks down a little under someone’s weight.

While Niall had been using the sounds of the room to sharpen his focus, to make sure he’s ready for anything in the exam room, someone sitting next to him to chat him up isn’t exactly a likely exam scenario.

So Niall finishes his sentence and pulls himself out of his paper, ready to tell this person to fuck off, when he sees that it’s Harry beaming at him gently, “Hey, stranger. Fancy meeting you here.”

Harry hasn’t got a coffee on him so Niall isn’t interested. “Well, everyone is here.” Niall says blandly, twirling the tip of his pen to point at the packed room before jabbing it back at the paper, too hard. It makes a hole.

“What are you writing?” Harry asks and then he’s leaning too close behind Niall’s shoulder, his breath glancing at the back of Niall’s neck, and Niall wants to jerk his shoulders up and not-so-accidentally hit Harry in the face but Harry reaches past Niall’s arm to press his fingers on the paper before he can.

“ _Modern Communication vs the Old Ways_?” Harry rattles it off, pressing his chest closer to Niall’s back so he can seemingly skim the essay. Niall’s too frozen to move away. “That’s kind of a bad title. You should try something like  _The New Generation of Communication_.“

It irks Niall, but only because it is a far better title that he ever brainstormed for this essay. If he was a lesser person, he wouldn’t be stocking it away for later, but he’s absolutely going to use it. He just isn’t going to tell Harry that. “Fuck off maybe?” Niall says, shifting his shoulders until he feels Harry back away.

“C’mon,” Harry chuckles, patting at Niall’s back gently, and Niall feels his touch like heat even after Harry’s pulled away. “What are friends for?”

But that, that sticks with him, makes him splutter out before he can help himself. “Friends? We’re not friends.” Niall bites out, letting his pen dig into the palm of his hand, and that would’ve been enough, surely, for Harry to get the message, but it’s like Niall can’t stop. He continues.

“Friends are people you actually like spending time with, not people you’re practically  _forced_ to spend time with because they won’t leave you alone.” Niall rattles off meanly before snorting.

“‘ _Friends_ ’ assumes that we have a degree of affection or at least fond feelings for each other and you are so far away from that definition that I,” and that’s about when Niall finally looks up and meets Harry’s eyes to see this look of pure  _hurt_ on his face, masking any other emotion he could’ve had written there. It makes Niall’s stomach plummet to his toes.

“Thanks for making that clear.” Harry says, and his voice is shaky with barely contained anger in the same way that his fists shake at his sides when he stands up, the lines of his body all tense. Harry doesn’t spare Niall a second look before he starts walking away and Niall’s words come back to him, the way he was so casually cruel, and his heart thuds numbly in his chest.

“Shit,” Niall breathes, shoving his notebook away so he can stand up but his feet get caught in his backpack straps and he nearly falls over. “Harry, wait!” Niall calls out, in vain, because he ducks down to free his legs and, by the time he stands back up, Harry is gone.

(And it’s not like Niall doesn’t chase after him because he does, hurriedly shoving his things in his bag, but by the time he jogs up the stairs, Harry is gone, and there’s no sign of him even being here.

There are four ‘Harry’s in their building, and they’re all on different floors, so even if Niall wanted to camp outside Harry’s dorm door and force him to talk to him, he couldn’t possibly know which one is the right one.

Niall goes back to his room feeling like an utter asshole. The silence inside is near deafening.)

* * *

The fifth time they meet, it’s pissing rain outside and Niall is crammed into this little alcove on the side of a building, all pressed up against the wall to avoid most of the downpour. He was on the way back from his final exam, one of the last people to finish writing, and his teacher had offered him a lift, but it’s only a brisk fifteen minute walk from the humanities building to his dorm.

Niall just hadn’t expected the storm clouds to roll in as fast as they did, nor the painful pelt of heavy raindrops that followed. He was just lucky to find a place to hide for a bit and wait out what would hopefully be the worst of it, before heading back on his way.

Niall watches as another unlucky soul jogs down the street, bag held above their head in an effort to block out the rain but it’s not really working so Niall understands why they veer off the sidewalk and head straight for him.

Niall pushes further against the wall to make space as the person darts inside and lets out a long sigh, but he stiffens when they lower their bag and Niall recognizes Harry’s face, despite the appearance of a drowned cat.

Harry notices him too, if the way he starts to move back outside is any indication, and Niall isn’t sure what possesses him but he reaches out and snags Harry’s elbow, dragging him back into the alcove. Thinking about it, Harry wouldn’t’ve let Niall pull him back if he didn’t want really didn’t want to but Niall’s heart is still beating a mile a minute. He has to say  _something_.

“You don’t have to leave because of me. It’s pouring, just,” Niall jerks, some twitchy thing that’s supposed to be a combination of a shrug and trying to shake his head at the same time. He ends up dropping his eyes to the ground, too embarrassed to look Harry in the face. God, the things he said, they’re all coming back to him viciously now.

Harry bitter laugh should’ve been expected. “Didn’t want to force you to spend any more time with me than you had to.” Harry spits like fire and it’s harsh, yeah, but it’s not any harsher than the things Niall said to Harry in turn.

“I deserved that, I guess.” Niall admits, ducking his head in shame. If anything, it’s less than he deserves. He’s almost expecting a punch from Harry, honestly. He deserves that too.

“You  _guess_ ,” Harry huffs, crossing his arms stiffly in front of himself, and he almost looks like he’s about to take off again into the rain and so Niall steps forward and boxes him in a little, not like his arms against the wall beside Harry but his foot just far enough that Harry will have to step over it if he wants to go back out. Harry doesn’t move, he just looks wary.

“I absolutely deserved that.” Niall says without the slightest bit of hesitation and Harry actually pauses, lets him continue. “The things I said to you were unfair and cruel. I’m sorry.” Harry blinks twice, his eyes going a little round in shock like he hadn’t expected Niall to say anything, let alone apologize, but Niall doesn’t pay too much attention to that, he just tries to make sure his face is as sincere as possible.

Eventually, Harry sighs and kind of slumps over like he’s been defeated. “I’m sorry too.” Harry says and Niall has to bite back a ‘ _for what?_ ’ so he can let Harry talk. “I’ve been told that I’m kind of,” Harry stalls, flailing one hand a little instead of actual words, like that explains his behaviour.

“Overzealous?” Niall offers cautiously, still worried about saying too much, stepping too far, but Harry just smiles a little wryly and bobs his head.

“Yeah, that too.” Harry says, palming a hand down his face before he drops it down to his side and lets his fingers gently curl into his palm. “I’ll reel it in.” He tucks his fist into his pocket tightly like he’s building his walls back up and folding in. Harry tilts his head gently back in some kind of resignation and Niall kind of feels bad.

“You,” Niall hesitates, fumbling a little with his words when Harry looks at him with those bright eyes of his, just a smidge of hopeful in them. “You don’t have to?” Niall says and it shouldn’t be a question, he doesn’t know why it’s a question, but it is.

“Are you asking me?” Harry says, laughs really, and this one is a little less bitter, a little more sweet like he’s ready to start joking again. And it hits Niall then that Harry is kind of cute, at least when his lips are curving into a gentle smile and his eyes are all lit up with joy. Why didn’t Niall realize he was  _so_  cute before he started being an asshole?

“I just mean,” Niall babbles, stepping back now that he’s sure Harry won’t leave. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and shrugs a little, “You were trying to be kind. I understand that.”

Harry lets out a bit of a sour laugh and, for a second, Niall thinks he’s going to say something biting again, something cruel, braces himself for it. But instead, Harry just shakes his head. “I was  _trying_ to flirt.” Harry explains sheepishly, pushing a hand through the sopping mess that is his hair so that he doesn’t have to look Niall in the eyes.

Well, shit. Niall doesn’t know what to say besides, “ _Oh_ ,” legitimately stunned into silence as he stares at the way Harry hunches in on himself a little more, shoulders tipping toward his chin.

“Yeah, oh.” Harry sighs, before he rubs tiredly at the back of his neck. “But, I get the message. I’ll give it a rest.” He says and Niall almost immediately feels something close to panic rise in his throat because this kind of sounds like ‘ _goodbye_ ’ and that isn’t what Niall wants, not at all, he starting to realize that now.

Niall feels the panic more keenly when Harry glances toward the street and stretches out a hand, like he’s testing the rain, and Niall can’t help but move. “Um!” Niall wheezes, trying to speak too fast all at once that it gets caught up in his throat. Harry stalls though, lets Niall catch his fingers in his sleeve. “Like I said, you don’t have to?”

And that makes Harry stop, makes him twist a little until Niall’s hand falls down to his side and Harry is barely two steps away.

Harry lets his eyebrows ride up a little on his forehead like he’s saying ‘ _you’re sure_?’ and Niall feels like he hasn’t been this sure about anything before. Niall moves back until he’s all pressed up against the wall but he makes sure Harry steps with him so they’re crowded together. It makes this little hot space between them on this impossibly cold day.

“I really don’t want you to.” Niall whispers, sliding his hands down to Harry’s waist just for the way Harry’s eyes go a shade darker, for the way he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.  

“Alright,” Harry swallows, reaching out a hand to press it against the wall by Niall’s head, leans in enough that the length of his arm all the way to his elbow is pressed against the wall, and their lips are inches apart. Harry presses their foreheads together delicately, enough that it makes Niall’s mouth curve into a soft smile, makes him take a slow breath in the seconds before they kiss.

(The awkward part comes about five minutes later, when they’re both half hard and Harry is tongue deep down Niall’s throat, when their hips are stirring absent circles against each other and rubbing in the  _best_ possible way.

It’s awkward because, as it turns out, this alcove isn’t  _just_ an alcove of a building, not just a nook in the side of the wall. It’s actually the backdoor to a dorm complex, of which someone is trying to leave to get to the parking lot just steps away, but Niall and Harry are  _kind of_ in the way, kind of splayed all over their path.

And, god, when Niall and Harry finally notice, it’s pretty clear that this person has been waiting for at least a while. The rain has even stopped. “Sorry, sorry!” Harry babbles as they both step away, turn to run, but Harry reaches out for Niall’s hand before they get too far and, when he finds it, he laces their fingers together like he doesn’t ever want to let go.)

* * *

The sixth time they meet, which isn’t  _technically_ the sixth time because they’ve been seeing each other for two months now, is a lot like the first time they met, because Harry is squeezing tight behind Niall in the shower stall, unprecedented but still welcome as he hugs his arms around Niall’s chest and dips his nose to press delicately at the back of Niall’s neck.

It’s early enough in the morning that there isn’t anyone else in the room, not that Harry really seemed to mind sneaking into a stranger’s shower in a packed room.

Niall moans, too loud, when Harry kisses a line down his throat, considers tipping his head back for a proper kiss but thinks better about it because there have already been two school notices by management about semen clogging up shower drains, not all Niall and Harry of course, but the fact still remains. Niall swats a hand at Harry’s arm.

“You stalker, how did you even know I was here?” Niall asks, because he hadn’t asked Harry to meet him here and, to his knowledge, he had gone to bed alone, not that he would’ve been opposed to a little bedtime company.

The only thing Niall can think of is that Harry’s learned his morning exercise schedule since the first time they met. That or he was waiting in one of the other stalls for someone to walk in and it just happened to be the right person.

“Maybe I spend my day jumping into showers hoping it’s you.” Harry growls gently against Niall’s ear, pressing their bodies tight like they can get any closer.

Niall has to roll his eyes though, despite the shiver that runs through him. “You’re such an idiot,” he says, but that doesn’t stop him from handing Harry his bar of soap before tipping his head forward to make sure he’s got all of the shampoo out.

Harry pulls his arms away and then Niall can hear Harry washing himself behind, kind of wants to look, but he’s got a face full of hair. And then suddenly, “Hey, can you hold this?” Harry asks, and blindly, Niall reaches a hand back.

“Sure,” Niall says, and he expects the soap back, or for Harry to hand him a comb or a loofa he’s bought himself. Niall doesn’t expect Harry’s palm to land in his own and for Harry to lace their fingers together. It takes him seconds to get it. “Oh my  _god_ , Harry.” Niall groans, exasperated, but still. He doesn’t pull away.

Harry uses their laced fingers to twist Niall around, and Niall’s hair is pretty much good already so he goes with it. “You love me.” Harry jeers a little, brings their clasped hands up to his mouth so he can barely hide his grin.

And, god, Niall’s a little afraid of that being true, not because of Harry, but because he nearly lost Harry once because of his own mistake. He’s not going to have that happen again, so he says, “No, I don’t,” but he puts enough of a jest in it that Harry’s gotta be blind if he doesn’t realize Niall’s joking.

“ _No, I don’t_.” Harry mimics him, exaggerating his accent, and Niall kind of wants to sock him in the stomach, “Well, I love you,” Kind of wants to kiss him on the mouth. He does the second one.

(They giggle all the way back to Niall’s room because Harry’s room is two floors up and it’s a bit of a walk while they’re just wearing towels. Especially because Harry spends the majority of the walk trying to tug Niall’s towel off and Niall retaliates by pushing him up against the wall and kissing him within an inch of his life.

By the time they make it to Niall’s room, they’re so wrapped up in each other that they try to spill straight from the doorway right to Niall’s bed, but a scream stops them and, Niall’s gotta say, he’s never had a heart attack but he’s just come pretty god damn close.

“Christ, Niall!” Eoghan shouts, half in bed, half on the floor, his pillow held in one hand like a weapon. “Ever heard of a sock on the door?”

And Niall kind of wants to say that he wasn’t even in the room to begin with so how could he have  _possibly_ put a sock on the door, until he sees one of Eoghan’s hands conspicuously under his blankets, and. Niall can’t swallow a snort so he just buries his face into Harry’s shoulder.

“Could use another shower, yeah?” Harry asks, smiling nervously, and he waves a weak hand at Eoghan before he drags Niall out of the room without waiting for an answer. Niall has no arguments anyway. It’s where they began. It only seems fitting that it’s where they end up, again and again.)


End file.
